


Definitely Strong

by Ice_Rain



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Getting Together, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27896476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Rain/pseuds/Ice_Rain
Summary: But today, Quentin’s not sitting with Alice. He’s sitting across the room, far away from everyone else. The most noticeable thing, though, is that he’s been staring at Eliot nonstop since he walked into the room.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 33
Kudos: 143





	Definitely Strong

It’s an almost completely ordinary Wednesday afternoon. Eliot’s lounging on the couch, his head resting on Margo’s lap. He’s been pretending to study but has mainly been daydreaming, relaxing into the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. Margo is actually studying, so it would seem. Traitor. Alice is across the room practicing yet another spell that Eliot doesn’t recognize, looking frustrated but determined. Todd’s busy cleaning up the coffee he spilled all over the carpet, which figures. The only thing that’s off, that seems slightly odd for the usual Wednesday common room atmosphere, is Quentin.

Quentin came into the room a few minutes ago looking… uncomfortable. Eliot hasn’t been able to quite put his finger on it. Usually every afternoon Quentin sits next to Alice, studying and talking about magic and being all buddy-buddy. Those two are so obvious. He has a bet going with Margo for when they’ll finally get together. Not if, but when. Margo thinks it won’t be until next semester, but Eliot thinks it’ll be earlier. Quentin is hopeless, but he has faith that Alice will get tired of their awkward dancing around each other and finally cut to the chase.

But today, Quentin’s not sitting with Alice. He’s sitting across the room, far away from everyone else. The most noticeable thing, though, is that he’s been staring at Eliot nonstop since he walked into the room. It’s pretty weird, actually. Eliot’s never been stared at like this before. He’s had plenty of people stare at him, of course. But typically when he makes eye contact with them, they’ll either look away and shyly blush at being caught, or they’ll meet his eyes unashamed, a clear invitation. But whenever Eliot looks at Quentin, he shifts around uncomfortably, looking almost pained, but doesn’t look away for even a moment.

Eliot feels like maybe he should go up to him and ask if he’s ok. Quentin is his friend, after all. He cares about him. Maybe too much. Well, definitely too much given the whole Alice situation. As much as he’s tried, he hasn’t been able to get his heart to stop doing a stupid fluttery thing every time he so much as sees the man smile. It’s terrible. But something tells Eliot that Quentin might not react well right now to being approached.

It turns out that Eliot doesn’t have to puzzle over it for long, though. Because after a few minutes of this odd behavior, Quentin stands up and struts purposefully over to him.

“Hey, I just need to borrow him for uh…” he mumbles quickly to Margo, and then yanks Eliot by the wrist over to one of the Cottage’s hidden nooks.

“So, what exactly is – “ Eliot’s cut off by Quentin yanking him forward by his tie and kissing him. And in less than a second flat, Quentin is all over him. He has a leg wrapped around Eliot’s hips, one hand is tugging at his hair, and the other is actually _grabbing his ass what the hell_. His tongue is insistent, licking into Eliot’s mouth desperately, and Eliot goes on autopilot, responding before his brain has a chance to catch up and think _what the actual fuck is happening._

Quentin moves his face down to Eliot’s neck, trailing wet kisses and panting out, “Eliot, oh my God, El I… I can’t, I can’t. Fuck.”

“Q?”

“I’m sorry I just, I don’t… I can’t…” he babbles, and now he’s _biting_ at Eliot’s collarbone and this is all too much .

“Q, stop for a sec, ok?” It is the absolute last thing he wants to be saying right now, but he unfortunately needs to. “You… kind of don’t sound like you right now.”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says, finally halting his mouth’s assault on Eliot’s neck. But he’s replaced it with nuzzling his head into Eliot’s chest instead, which is not helping to relieve Eliot of his… currently growing problem. “I know it’s weird, I shouldn’t be…” He takes a deep breath. “So Julia fucked up. And she cast this thing on me, that like… so it’s super specific and there are some details. But the result is that, um, it made me like, insanely horny? For you in particular?”

Eliot blinks. “Ok… How on Earth did that become the end effect of a spell?”

“Um. Is there any way we could just… is it like… do you really need to know?”

So, consent is huge for Eliot. As much as he’d love to just take this gift from the universe at face value and use it as an opportunity to finally fuck Quentin like he’s been imagining since they met, he actually needs to know the conditions of whatever is causing this behavior. He puts his hands on Quentin’s shoulders and pushes him gently off of him.

“I mean, if _this_ is gonna happen,” he motions between the two of them, “I would prefer to know, yeah.”

“Right. Ok. Yeah that’s fair.” Quentin paces around in a small circle, tucking strands of hair behind his ear multiple times. “Ok. Ok. Um, here.” He hands Eliot a piece of paper while actively avoiding eye contact. 

**_Freud’s Lust Amplification_ **

_Effect: When cast, will cause the target to feel intensely magnified lust toward the person they are most romantically attracted to._

_Duration: Lasts for up to three hours, or until the target and identified person both achieve orgasm through sexual contact with each other._

_Conditions: In order to take effect, the identified person must be unaware of the target’s romantic feelings towards them._

Holy fuck. Eliot swallows. “So, not Alice?”

“Oh my God, not you too,” Quentin groans. “That’s what Julia thought when she cast it, she said she was trying to help. I kept telling her Alice and I are just friends. If she knew that I… that it would be you, I don’t think she would’ve done it. I mean, I know you don’t… I guess she thought Alice did, but you obviously…”

“Q, what are you talking about?”

“We don’t have to! I know it’s probably weird for you, after knowing… all that. And like, the spell doesn’t do anything bad to me if we don’t. I can just like, wait it out, go jerk off in my room.”

Again, holy fuck. How is this what Eliot’s Wednesday has become? It must be the best Wednesday anyone’s ever had in the history of Wednesdays. He could just kiss Quentin right now and put him out of his misery. Except… he’s never come across a spell before that amplifies sexual attraction. He’s done a fair amount of sex magic, sure, but this is something unique as far as he’s aware. It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up. And from the conditions of the spell, he has to be careful not to give himself away or his one shot at this will be ruined.

“Where exactly is Julia right now?” he asks as evenly as possible.

“She’s out back on the patio. But you don’t need to yell at her or anything. It was stupid, but she meant well.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” Understatement of Eliot’s life. He’s about ready to cook her a 5-course meal every day for the next week. “Quentin, listen to me very carefully. Stay right here. Do not move.” Before Quentin can protest, he leaves the nook and practically runs out to the patio where he finds Julia sitting with Kady and Penny.

“Julia, I couldn’t help but overhear something about a spell you cast on Quentin.”

“Oh, interesting.” She leans forward, smirking. “And what exactly did you hear? More importantly, did you hear it coming out of Alice’s room?” Oh, Julia. Dear, sweet Julia. She clearly thinks she has this entire situation figured out.

“I heard enough to know that I want you to cast it on me. Like, right now.”

Julia furrows her eyebrows. “So, you’re aware of exactly what the spell does? All the conditions?”

“Very aware, yes. Please?” 

Julia thinks for a moment. “What’s in it for me?”

God fucking damnit. He needs to get back to Quentin like, right the fuck now, before he thinks Eliot’s abandoned him and goes off somewhere to ‘wait it out.’

“Those books you’ve been reading in our library – “

Her eyes light up. Leave it to a knowledge student to be successfully bribed with books. “The Theories on the Source of Magic series?”

“Yeah, those. Take them back with you to the Attic. You can hold on to them for 2 weeks.” Besides textbooks, books at Brakebills are never supposed to leave their designated library. 

“Deal.” Julia chants a brief passage in Arabic, performs a series of Poppers, and then grabs both of Eliot’s hands, moving her thumbs in a pattern over his wrists.

“There you go. Feel anything?”

Eliot doesn’t answer. Because he can’t answer. His brain has converged upon one singular focus consisting solely of Quentin’s _lips face laugh hair voice_. He runs inside and finds Quentin, thank God, still standing where he left him. And Eliot understands it now. The uncomfortable shifting around. The staring without looking away. Because a million dollars and the answer key to all of his finals wouldn’t be enough to make Eliot look away from Quentin right now.

But there is one thing he doesn’t understand, which is how the fuck Quentin was able to resist this for multiple minutes before grabbing him and kissing him senseless. Because as soon as Eliot lays eyes on Quentin, anything resembling sanity is gone. Eliot might as well be a dick in a vat, his sole purpose in life to seek out and fuck one Quentin Coldwater. 

Without saying anything, Eliot takes two strides toward Quentin and cups his face in both hands, kissing him filthily. He does this all while still moving forward until Quentin is trapped between the wall and Eliot’s body pushed flush against him. Quentin moans into it immediately. Eliot bends his knee to press his thigh between Quentin’s legs, gasping when he feels the outline of Quentin’s hard cock. They keep kissing, Eliot unable to do so much as plan a single second in advance, letting himself be completely taken over by the want, the need for Quentin’s body against his. 

“Eliot, what – “

“I didn’t realize it would be this intense. What the fuck. What the actual, ever living _fuck_ is happening to me,” Eliot pants. 

“What are you talking about?” Right. Eliot should explain. It’s important to be on the same page. But it’s also important that he kisses Quentin again first.

“I got Julia to do the spell on me,” he says when he generates enough self-control to pull away again. 

“Wait. You mean you…”

“Yes, Quentin, I have a huge-ass crush on you. Definitely qualifies as some fucking intense romantic attraction for that spell. And if we don’t fuck in the next minute I think I might literally die.”

Quentin whines loudly and pulls Eliot’s hips hard against him as he practically tries to swallow Eliot’s tongue. And then. Then he tilts his head up to start fucking nibbling on Eliot’s earlobe. “Should we. Should we go upstairs?” Quentin asks, panting between words, his hot breath in Eliot’s ear making him think _I actually don’t know if I can make it upstairs without coming all over the inside of my pants._

“We should,” Eliot starts, but then gets distracted by the overwhelming need to be attached to Quentin’s mouth. “We should go upstairs,” he tries again. But instead of moving he pulls Quentin back in for yet another kiss. Quentin manages to get Eliot’s vest off, and then proceeds to undo the top three buttons of his shirt. They’re grinding against each other furiously, and Eliot could definitely come like this. Probably will come like this if it continues happening for even another 15 seconds.

“God damn it,” Eliot groans. And he decides to rip the band-aid off, pulling entirely away from Quentin and marching toward the stairs, refusing to look back. They walk through the living room at the same time that Julia comes inside from the patio.

“Oh, Eliot, how did – Q?” She looks at them for a moment in confusion, both their hair a complete mess, Eliot’s shirt half unbuttoned, and the fact that they’re both walking to the stairs with enough desperation for a life-or-death scenario. “Ohhhhhh shit,” she says in realization.

“Yeah, not now Julia.” Eliot brushes past her without pausing. They get upstairs to his room, and he somehow manages to still resist looking back, understanding Orpheus’s struggle on a whole new level. But he knows that unless he makes it all the way to the bed right now, they aren’t going to get there ever.

In a fluid motion that ends up being more graceful than it has any right to be in his ridiculously flustered state, he spins around and pulls Quentin on top of him as he falls backwards on the bed.

“El, oh my God. Oh my _God._ I um… I don’t…” He’s gasping out words in between targeted attacks on Eliot’s neck, and even if Eliot did have the brain capacity to parse what he’s saying, he’s pretty sure Quentin’s not forming anything close complete sentences. The situation is getting dire much, much more quickly than Eliot would like. No one’s clothes are even off and he is feeling. Extremely not in control.

“Q,” he breathes. “Q, I um. This isn’t how I – _oh fuck!_ ” he shouts as Quentin’s hand palms over his dick through his pants. He quickly grabs Quentin’s wrist and tugs it away, holding it up against his chest. “This isn’t how this type of thing usually goes with me, but um… I’m not sure I can…” God, this is so fucking embarrassing. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to last long. Like, at all.”

“Please fuck me. I don’t care if you come like, right away. I’m in the same exact position just. Please, _please_ fuck me.”

“Ok,” Eliot says about an octave higher than he knew his voice could go. If only he’d known Quentin back when he went to singing auditions.

One day he’ll really take his time with Quentin, open him up slowly and explore all the ways to make him gasp and moan and writhe underneath him. That day is not today. “So there’s a spell that will take care of all the prep and lube if – “

“Just fucking do it Eliot!” Quentin says, tugging his sweater over his head.

“Ok, yeah, ok, just let me…” Eliot gets his pants and underwear off in record time, not even bothering with his shirt. Quentin’s wiggling out of his briefs when Eliot says, “Let’s just… get on your knees, yeah?” Maybe if he doesn’t have to look at Quentin’s illegally attractive face he can last a few… seconds longer? Yeah, if he’s being realistic, that’s about as much as he can hope for. 

Quentin gets into position leaning forward on his knees as Eliot performs the prep spell. His hands are shaking so much he has to do it twice before it works.

“Ok, you ready?” He asks, supporting himself with one arm and wrapping the other around Quentin’s stomach from behind.

“Jesus Christ Eliot, just stick your dick in me already. Fucking hell.”

Eliot knows how to follow instructions when it counts. He lines himself up and slowly sinks in, the tight heat immediately overwhelming his senses. He stills when he’s about halfway in, trying to calm himself down.

“Eliot, please,” Quentin cries out. “ _Please._ I need you _now_.”

“I just… I just need a second.”

“Fucking move Eliot!”

“I said just give me a second!” They’re practically shouting at each other, and Eliot realizes he never put up sound wards. Because of course he didn’t. But that’s kind of a lost cause at this point.

“ _Eliot_ ,” Quentin sobs out, grabbing onto Eliot’s hand and squeezing hard. Ok, fuck it. He takes a deep breath and pushes the rest of the way in.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Eliot takes a few deep breaths as Quentin cries out an unrecognizable series of syllables. Eliot makes a tentative, small movement backwards and then forwards again. Quentin howls, and when he hears that sound Eliot knows this is it. There’s no point to trying to gain back any amount of self-control, because there never was any self-control here in the first place. Eliot starts thrusting in earnest, groaning every time he sinks back in. He lets his hips take over completely, having just enough mind left in him to move his hand from Quentin’s stomach to grip his cock, stroking it along with the rhythm he’s built up.

He’s so fucking close he feels like he could literally come any second. Yet somehow it just keeps building up more and more, so much fucking tension and heat and want just begging to be released. Then there’s a sudden shift, where he knows there’s absolutely no going back. His movements get faster and shallower and then he’s coming on an actual scream, burying himself deep inside Quentin, his head falling onto his back as he practically cries into it. He makes the realization at some point in his fucked-out haze that his hand has mostly stopped moving over Quentin’s cock, and that definitely needs to be remedied, approximately 1.5 seconds before Quentin comes fast and hard, spilling out over Eliot’s hand and the sheets below him.

When Quentin finishes, Eliot lets himself collapse on top of him completely, covering him like a blanket. He pulls out mournfully, both of them groaning at the loss. He finds Quentin’s hands and interlaces their fingers together, holding their hands up by Quentin’s head. He doesn’t want to move. He has this strange urge to protect Quentin, to surround him and secure him as _his_ , and – ok, when did Eliot get so possessive? Must just be remnants of the spell.

“Um, is there like, a specific clean-up spell for this kind of thing?” Quentin asks.

Eliot chuckles and lets go of Quentin’s hands to do the quick tut. He takes his shirt the rest of the way off while he’s at it, wanting to feel Quentin’s skin against his. Quentin sighs happily and lifts his hands up, waiting for Eliot to hold them again. Eliot’s _heart_.

“So,” Eliot starts, “tell me about this ‘strong romantic attraction’ you feel for me.”

“Oh my God.” He can practically feel Quentin’s eyes rolling. “First of all, the spell never said ‘strong’, you’re editorializing.”

“I’m pretty sure it said strong.”

“It did not. Second, you saw the spell. Isn’t that like, evidence enough?”

“I’d still like to hear it from you,” Eliot says, burying his face in Quentin’s hair. So soft. Softer than it has any right to be given the shampoo he knows he uses.

“You’re so vain,” Quentin laughs. “Fine. Even though the spell did not say strong –“

“Definitely did.”

“- I have like, a lot of feelings for you? That are obviously like, not just friendship feelings.”

“Not just friendship feelings. That’s what you’re going with?” The smile is evident in Eliot’s voice.

“Oh, fuck off,” Quentin mutters into the mattress. “Yeah, that’s what I’m going with. I wanna like, be with you. In a let’s go on dates and have sex and stay up late talking and cuddling kind of way.”

“Q,” Eliot’s voice breaks and he quickly clears his throat to cover it. “That uh. That sounds nice.”

Quentin wiggles a little until Eliot takes the hint and moves off of him, turning on his side. Quentin rolls over to face him.

“Yeah?” Quentin asks.

Eliot brushes a strand of hair out of Quentin’s face. “Yeah.”


End file.
